


Desperate Measures

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha John Winchester, Alpha Sam Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Play, Bottom Sam Winchester, Claiming Bites, Come Swallowing, Community: spn-kinkmeme, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Face-Fucking, Forced Turning (Alpha to Omega), Hurt Sam Winchester, Knotting, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Omega Sam Winchester, One Shot, Oral Knotting, Parent/Child Incest, Supernatural Kink Meme, Top John Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 16:22:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21431164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Fill to a kink meme prompt:"John forcibly turns his adult alpha son Sam to omega as a last ditch effort to stop the YED's plans. Fighting, rough claiming, forced come eating. Bonus: John's got a big dick, too."
Relationships: John Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 184
Collections: Supernatural Anon Kink Meme





	Desperate Measures

Sam lands face down on the ground, the wind knocked out of him. Immediately, he curls in on himself and rolls away, protecting his head. It's dark out, on a new moon night with little light, so even if he didn't have blood dripping down into his eyes from the cut above his forehead, he wouldn't be able to get a feel for where the alpha attacking him is.

_The alpha_... Yeah. It's easier to think of him like that that.

Sam tries to rise back up onto his knees, but the right one is almost too swollen to bend any longer, and his left shoulder is trembling like it can't hold his weight. Somehow, he manages to anyway – he knows what his attacker wants, know what's at stake. But then there's a punishing blow to the back of his head and he's out.

~*~

Sam wakes up with his arms tied behind his back, his pants down around his ankles, and his ass on fire. The alpha pounding into him has a dick like a nightstick, huge and thick and unyielding as it plows into him. When he tries to talk, he can't – there's something wedged into his mouth keeping it wide open.

Trying to stave off his panic, Sam begins to wiggle his hands. If he can slip them free from the belt binding them– But the minute he tries, the alpha behind him twists the leather tighter, painfully wrenching his wrists back into place.

"I'm sorry," his father says, forcing Sam's shoulders into the ground. His knees are firmly locked on top of Sam's, keeping him from being bucked off.

Sam doesn't care if John's sorry. He doesn't want him to talk, doesn't want to think about the fact that his alpha father sent his brother away on a wild goose chase so that.. so that...

"If there were any other way, Sam," John continues, "any other way to defeat him, I would have chosen it." His knot is beginning to form, catching on the rim of Sam's ass every time John plows into him. Sam tries to crawl forward to get away from it, but his father just tightens his grip and grinds harder into him, knot locking into place on the final shove. "But there isn't. I've looked everywhere, consulted anyone I could think of–"

Heat floods through Sam as his father's cum pours into him, starting the inevitable chemical change. The claiming bite follows, ripping into his shoulder deep enough to breech the subdermal submission glands there. Instantly his body relaxes as the glands' hormones begin to flood his system, doing their part to ensure a successful claim.

"Shhh," John says. "It's going to be okay. It's all going to be okay now. They can't use you if you're an omega."

_You can't either_, Sam doesn't say. There's no place for an omega in the hunting life, and even if they were, John's bite makes it clear there's no room for _Sam_. The bite is a familial claim, not a primary claim; John's tying him to the Winchester line, but not mating him. He doesn't know whether to feel happy or sad about it. He wants to ask him if this is punishment for going back to hunting with Dean, if this is what he meant when he told him to stay gone if he went to California. He can't stay gone now; he'll be too submissive to survive without his alpha's protection.

Blood from the bite slowly drips down Sam's chest and onto the ground below him. Behind him, John rubs his mouth across Sam's shoulder, wiping the blood clean. He's careful now, easing them both back to keep the wound elevated and away from the ground.

John doesn't need to keep his tight grip on Sam anymore; Sam's body won't resist him. Instead, he cradles Sam with one arm, snaking the other down to caress his cock, pressing Sam's cock against his belly as he strokes him in time to the thrust of his hips as he moves the knot forward and back inside him. Surely it's only Sam's imagination, but it almost feels like his father is stroking his own cock through Sam's stomach. But when he looks down, he can see where his skin bulges out a bit.

It's not his imagination.

To Sam's horror, the minute that realization crosses his mind, he begins to get erect. It's the chemosignals, he tells himself, but he also knows it's a lie. It's his body, changing. Omegas are happiest when they're being fucked. Soon, his mind will change, too. Soon, he won't mind this.

It will be a relief.

It's not long before Sam is spilling over John's hand – no knot, of course, it's impossible for anyone to get a knot when they're already being knotted. John scoops up the cum with his fingers, depositing it onto Sam's tongue through the ring holding his mouth open. It's stringy and bitter. Sam gags at the taste, but he can't keep his father from feeding him more.

John leans forward and slowly, methodically, cleans Sam up, making sure that every bit of his cum goes inside his mouth. As he does, he presses himself against Sam's back, chin digging into the claiming bite, his breath hot and moist against Sam's neck. (It feels loving, but it's also practical. The pressure, Sam knows, forces the glands to release more chemicals, making the victim more limp and compliant.)

Finally, _finally_, John's knot slips free. Sam feels a pang of loss.

"It won't be much longer," John whispers. "It's almost over." He gathers Sam up into his lap and holds him, rocking him back and forth and telling him that he'll take care of him, that he'll make a beautiful omega.

Sam doesn't care.

Gently, almost lovingly (but Sam knows better), John unties Sam's arms and finishes stripping off his pants. Sam tries to will them to move, but it's no use. All he can do is let his father rearrange him like a rag doll, moving them both to the grass. It's too late to prevent the rough, painful places where his skin was rubbed raw against the pavement, but it still feels cool against his knees as he kneels before John, cheek resting against the ground (the child's pose from yoga, his mind supplies, remembering his classes in college), his fucked-out hole open to the elements.

John pushes his fingers into Sam's hole, pushing his cum there deeper inside. He wipes them off against his ass and presses a plug into him, trapping the fluids inside. (_Where did it come from_, Sam wonders. _How long has he been planning this?_)

John makes himself comfortable in front of Sam, sitting with his legs apart, his back against a tree, and then guides the omega-to-be's head forward into his lap. Sam's mouth is slack and unresisting when John forces his soft cock through the ring of the gag, fingers stroking his hair and jaw. Before long, he's erect again, his ridiculously big cock sliding all the way to the back of Sam's neck and into his throat.

He should be gagging. He would be if it weren't for chemicals coursing through him and for the position he's in, crouched over, back straight, head back, creating a straight path down his throat. As it is, every time his father pushes in, he fucks the air out of him, leaving him desperate and gasping when he withdraws. His eyes are tearing up, and his nose is running, but he's not gagging.

His father is murmuring things that are supposed to be comforting, how he would never have left it this late if he'd known the solution, he could have prepared him for it, he should never have let him leave for college, he loves him… Sam lets the sounds wash over him and tries to believe him. He could fight him, but he's tired of the anger. Maybe if John had done it earlier, Jess would still be alive.

When John's knot begins to form, bumping against Sam's lips, his father unbuckles the gag holding his mouth open and removes it. Then he plunges forward again, rubbing Sam's throat and telling him to breathe through his nose. Sam chokes, but he can't pull away as the knot swells in his mouth, forcing his jaws wide apart as it locks behind his teeth.

John's cock is so far down his throat, Sam has no choice but to swallow around it as his father begins to come. At first he sputters, sure he's going to asphyxiate and die – between the size of his cock and his knot, there's no room for him to breathe. If his muscles weren't all limp, he'd be flailing and struggling. But that's the nature of turning an alpha; when faced with a choice between asphyxiation and protomegany, the body chooses to live.

He can't _not_ swallow John's semen – the knot ensures that there's nowhere for it to go but down, sealing off even the sinus cavities. It's the last step in the process. It's unavoidable. This is his fate. The only thing he can do is just… accept it.

The moment he does, something in him just… gives way, like a dam finally bursting, as his body launches the final stage of the change. A tingling feeling washes over him, bringing with it a strange feeling of contentment from head to toe. His muscles relax, and his throat and jaw unclench a little bit further. His throat opens up a little more, too, giving his father's cock more room in. The tickling feeling that was his gag reflex trying to kick in vanishes in a burst of endorphins. It will never reappear.

"Let it happen, son. I've got you."

There's no going back now.

Sam's studied biology. He understands what's happening - opening the throat triggers the last set of submission glands, which are popped by the jaw when the bone structure shifts. It doesn't help him fight against the changes; there's no way to defeat the chemicals that your body produces.

Sam's no longer choking on John's knot. Now that his jaw has popped and his throat is open, the weight of the knot has become comforting in his mouth. Instinctively, he suckles on it, laving his tongue across the base. The repetitive motion soothes him, sending signals of contentment and happiness to his brain, which stimulates the primal need to suckle. It's a self-sustaining process now. The pleasure of doing it is locked into his core; he'll always long to re-experience the sensation.

Most of John's cum spurts directly down his Sam's throat, as it should, but sometimes he can catch a taste when it spurts out enough to fill his esophagus and splash back. It doesn't taste bitter anymore. It tastes delicious. There's more than there should be - another function of the claiming. John's body will exhaust most of its resources churning out enough semen to make the turn take; he'll spend the next few days eating like a starving man. Sam's stomach is filling with it, even pooching out a little. He's never felt so satisfied in his life.

Thanks to the chemicals coursing through him, Sam's whole body feels alert, soft and aroused, but in a passive kind of way. He's horny, and incredibly turned on by the cock in his mouth, but he has no desire to come himself. It's enough to stay like this, safe in his alpha's presence, breathing in his musk and his pheromones as he worships his knot and cock, letting the natural scent of his alpha's groin fill his nose.

Why was he fighting? He can't remember. So he lets it go.

~*~

Sometime later, the knot deflates, and he murmurs his dissent as it slides from his mouth. Maybe, if he's lucky, he'll get it back in his hole later on. Or both of them. Whatever his alpha wants. Big strong hands brush the grass and the gravel off and wrap him in a long coat, picking him up and carrying him, bridal-style, over to the large black car that has just pulled up.

Distantly, he hears the door open. A second set of hands helps slide him onto the back seat, buckling him in and wrapping a blanket around him.

"Is it done?" He knows that voice. _Alpha_, his brain supplies. The other one. Also his? He doesn't know.

"Yes," his father replies gruffly. "Went smoothly. He'd tell you himself, but he's a little spunk-drunk at the moment."

"I still don't like it," the first voice grumbles.

"Dean, he took to it like he was born to it. He'll be fine."

Sam hears his father walk to the back of the car and open the trunk, tossing something in – his clothes, Sam thinks. His duffel-bag. His _life_. No, not his life, not anymore, he thinks. That's all in the past. He's vaguely glad; it feels too big and scary to manage now. Maybe it always felt that way, and he just never admitted it.

He can let go of that, too.

_Alpha_. Pleasing his alpha is his life now. He finds himself looking forward to it slightly.

He remembers how pleasant it was to suck on his alpha's knot. Maybe if he's lucky, they'll take turns driving so he can do more of that.

"What about you?" Dean asks. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine." John slams the car door down and slides into the driver's seat. "Come on. We've got work to do."

~End~

**Author's Note:**

> Originally filled on the [kink meme](https://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/154550.html?thread=47167926#t47167926). This is a one-shot; there won't be more.


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